Page 125 of Lucky Laces

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Forty-One

Diana

My heart is poundingas I lead Pat down the hall and I’ve never—ever—wanted to go all Jason Bourne and stab someone with a pen more than right now.

I exhale silently, strive for calm.

Calm.Calm.Calm.

And still, by the time I make it to the door of my makeshift office here at the Sierra’s arena, I’m no closer to calm.

I still want to commit murder.

I heard…well, I think I pretty much heardeverything—or enough to know that a big chunk of what I was worried about in taking this dive with Hudson is coming true.

Enough to know that I need to decide right now.

Here and fucking now.

Am I in or am I out?

Only there’s no decision, is there?

I’m in—I’ve been in for weeks now.

So now it’s a matter of digging my heels in and not giving in to this asshole who thinks I’m aholeto fuck.

My fingers clench on my iPad and I swear I hear the screen groan in protest.

A screen that’s displaying the lineup I’d gone to the room to announce.

And instead I got to hear…

Calm.

I gesture with a hand toward one of the chairs.“Sit,” I say.

He leans back against the open door, arms and ankles crossed.“I’d rather stand.”

Of course he would.

The better to torment me.

Stifling a sigh, I move to the desk, lean back against it, and stare at him.

For a long, long time.

It’s a game of chicken, one that’s going to determine who the fuck is in charge here.

And I’m not going to lose.

So yeah, it goes on a long, long time.

Eventually—thank fuck—he cracks.“What do you want, Coach?At some point I need to get dressed for the game.”

“Do you?”I ask quietly.

That gets to him, and I see a flicker of emotion—of uncertainty—in his eyes.

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